


Rules Are Meant to be Broken

by ashinan smut (ashinan)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan%20smut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve knew when he made the rule 'no sex before press conferences' that Tony would try his hardest to break it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules Are Meant to be Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Because there can never be enough sex in closets fic!

There is something to be said about being dragged into the broom closet in SHIELD HQ by his tie that sets Steve off. Tony’s eyes are already dilating and Steve really tries to listen to the logical part of his brain. But then there’s Tony, warm down his front, grinning up at him slightly maniacal and all sex, and Steve can’t help but draw him closer, fingers ghosting over the fine cut of Tony’s suit.

“We have to be in front of the press in  _half an hour_ ,” Steve says, and Tony laughs.

“Better be quick then.” He grabs the back of Steve’s neck and hauls him down, grinning into the kiss. Steve nips at him in retaliation and Tony swipes at the seam of Steve’s lips, groaning when their tongues tangle. Steve grinds their hips together, a quick one-two motion, and Tony tries to use his tie against him. Steve pulls back from the kiss, dropping a light peck on Tony’s temple.

“Okay, okay, we can do this  _later  – Christ_ ,” Steve gasps, as Tony goes to his knees in front of him, already fighting with his fly and Steve wasn’t prepared. His fingers slide through Tony’s hair as Tony noses at his thigh, getting his fly undone and pulling Steve’s cock free. Steve’s fingers tighten and Tony doesn’t have the courtesy to give him forewarning, just swallows him down all in one go.

Choking, Steve tries not to thrust forward as Tony hums around him, and Steve’s thighs shake. This wasn’t on the agenda; they had agreed  _no sex before press conferences_  when the last time they had to be in front of reporters, they had been late by five minutes and Tony had forgotten to button his fly. Speculation had run  _rampant_  and Tony had framed every single magazine that had called him a ‘corruptor of all that America is’. What amused Steve to no end was how  _he_  was the one that instigated more than half their bedroom activities because if Tony could be down in the workshop, he would.

Steve yanks on Tony’s hair, asking for control of the motion, and Tony practically shudders with need. He tightens his fingers, and Tony stops moving all together, hands sliding from Steve’s thighs to fist against his own, a small whimper escaping him.

“Ready?” Steve asks, breathless. Tony groans, mouth going soft and easy around him and it’s almost too simple to use him, to make Tony take and take and  _take_  until he’s choking on it, eyes fluttering shut as he tries not to gag. He’s beautiful like this, messy and perfect and Steve thrusts a little harder, moves a little faster, and Tony whimpers against him, tongue working frantic. It’s almost hypnotic, watching his cock disappear between Tony’s stretched lips, catching the hitched noise Tony emits every time he thrusts a little too deep, feeling the quake of Tony’s body as he fights not to take control back again. He doesn’t even have time to warn Tony; his orgasm sneaks up on him and Tony makes a startled noise, eyes going dangerously dark as his throat works. Steve gasps Tony’s name throughout it, groaning when Tony can’t swallow it all down and come paints the corners of his lips. Finally, it’s almost too much, Tony’s mouth too hot and tongue still working him to the point that it’s nearly painful.

“Stop,  _stop_ ,” Steve says, gasping, and has to physically hold Tony still so he can pull free. God  _damn_ , Tony’s mouth is lethal. He looks down, catches sigh of Tony still sitting there, cock denting the front of his expensive pants, eyes bright and eager and  _hungry_ , and Steve hauls him up, catching Tony in a kiss. He walks them back, until they bump against one of the cabinets, and Steve fights to get Tony’s buckle undone.

“We shouldn’t,” Steve starts, but Tony cuts him off with another kiss, fingers clumsy along the line of his shoulders. Steve is thoroughly distracted by the thick tangle of their tongues, and the lingering taste of him coating Tony’s mouth. Tony gasps against him, their kiss turning frantic with each accidental brush of Steve’s fingers against Tony’s trapped cock.

“Tease,” Tony breathes, tugging him closer, and Steve finally gets the damn buckle undone.

“What do you think will go over better?” Steve asks, kissing along Tony’s jaw to his ear. “Hand job or blowjob? I’m open to either.”

“I’m sure you are.” Tony’s words are teasing but his voice shakes. 

Pushing past the open fly, Steve traces a thumb down the length of Tony’s cock. “I would fuck you but you made the mistake of making that rule. No sex before press conferences.”

Tony arches against him, fingers running messy through Steve’s hair. “And yet here you  _are_  – fuck – breaking the rules and  _yes, please_.”

“Blowjob or hand job, Tony. Choose,” Steve says, grinning at the frustrated whine that gives him.

“I would choose to have you turn me around and fuck me against these cabinets,” Tony starts, tilting his head back so Steve can trail kisses down it. “I would choose to have you cover my mouth with your hand while you fuck me fast and hard, exactly how I like it, so I can feel it the entire time we’re at the conference. So I can feel your cock still in me, your fingers digging into my waist and you keeping me silenced, keeping me  _pinned_. I would choose for you to not let me come, for you to make me be late to the damn conference because you told me I wasn’t allowed.” Tony grins, eyes almost completely black. Steve waits for his next words, thumb still tracing the line of Tony’s cock. “And I wouldn’t. And then you would take me back home and fuck me again until I screamed. But since that’s not an option,” Tony trails off, shifting his hips, “I’ll have to go with blowjob.”

“You are such a cheat,” Steve gasps, cock twitching with obvious interest. He slips his hand into Tony’s boxers, giving him two quick jerks of his hand before spinning Tony around. Tony tilts his head back, mouth already running off, and Steve contemplates shutting him up right then and there. Instead, he lets Tony talk, his words bumping around in Steve’s head and making him frantic as he pulls at Tony’s pants, shoving them down his legs. Tony kicks out of them and grinds his ass back, right against Steve, and Steve digs fingers into Tony’s waist.

“Naked sounds good,” Tony says, hands clumsy on his shirt as Steve ruts against him, cock catching on the rim of Tony’s hole. Tony stutters, switching tactics as he reaches back for Steve. “Or not. Lube. Front pocket of my jacket.  _Hurry_.”

Steve sucks a bruise behind Tony’s ear as he searches in Tony’s pockets, distracted momentarily by Tony’s needy gasp when he trails his hands over Tony’s chest. Finding the lube isn’t a problem; it’s a matter of not fucking into Tony before he’s ready that’s the issue. Tony shoves back against him again, murmuring obscenities, describing in great detail how much he wants Steve in him  _now_.

“You’re not allowed to come,” Steve says, slicking up two fingers and teasing in first one, and then the other. Tony keeps shoving back against him, not stuttering in his movements. Steve bites at his ear. “You’re going to take everything I give you and you’re going to  _wait_. You’re going to sit in front of millions of people, remembering this feeling, knowing that after I’m going to string you out and keep you there for  _hours_. And you won’t know when you’ll be able to come next, but you’ll be so good for me, won’t you?” Steve slides in a third and Tony’s head rolls back on Steve’s shoulder.

“ _Please_ ,” Tony begs, legs shifting wider, and Steve can’t hold back any longer. He eases his fingers out, ignoring Tony’s plea for more, and slicks himself up. He carefully pushes inside, digging bruises into Tony’s hips, and when he’s almost all the way in, he slaps a hand over Tony’s mouth and starts up a brutal pace.

Tony wails against his hand, fingers locking over his bicep and clawing at the cabinet in front of him. Steve doesn’t relent, trying to angle away from Tony’s prostate, but by the way Tony is jerking and shaking in his arms, it doesn’t seem to matter. Tony tries to keep pace with him, finding leverage on the cabinet, and Steve catches sight of his face, eyes screwed shut and brow furrowed in concentration. His mouth is open under Steve’s hand, tongue pressed against the meat of his palm, and Steve fucks in hard, rotating his hips twice before going back to his original pace. Tony’s nails bite into Steve’s sleeve as he gasps.

There’s a trembling arch to Tony’s back, and when Steve rotates his hips again, Tony jerks  _hard_ , cock bouncing obscene against his stomach. Steve slows his pace, forcing Tony to stand up on his toes, and then begins all over again. Tony’s breath hiccups in his chest, and he releases Steve’s sleeve to reach frantically for his cock. Steve slams in hard and stays, and Tony tries to buck against him, keening wildly as he fights for leverage. Steve lets go of Tony’s waist, batting away Tony’s hand as he circles Tony’s cock, fingers just tight enough around the base. There’s a constant stream of noise coming from Tony, muffled by Steve’s hand, and Tony shakily grabs onto Steve’s sleeve again, hips twitching. Steve rotates his hips, slow at first, building momentum, and Tony tries to shake his head. Steve squeezes his eyes shut, finding just the right amount of speed and  he bites down on Tony’s shoulder, expensive cotton bitter against his tongue, as he comes. Tony whimpers, cock twitching in Steve’s hand, but he stays hard.

Steve stills, carefully removing his hand from Tony’s mouth. Tony pants heavy into the air, eyes still closed. Leaning back enough that he can slide a hand down Tony’s back, he circles where his softening cock is still enclosed. Tony makes a curious noise, and then chokes when Steve works in first one finger, and then another, ignoring the sensitivity to his own cock.

“How does that feel?” Steve asks, and Tony doesn’t answer him, just shoves back his hips. “You could take more, couldn’t you? Look at you.”

Steve pulls his fingers free and then lets his cock slip out, ignoring the gasp and shudder that Tony gives. He releases Tony completely, stepping back so he can tuck himself back into his pants. Tony collapses against the cabinet, hands curled against the metal. Steve straightens his uniform, ignoring the marks where Tony had pressed against him. He tangles his fingers in Tony’s sweaty hair, forcing his head back.

“Remember. You aren’t allowed to come until after the press conference. I’ll know.” Steve presses a soft kiss against Tony’s temple, gentling his hold as Tony’s eyes catch his. Tony grins, kiss bitten lips far too enticing.

“Sure thing, Cap. See you out there.”

Steve shakes his head, releasing Tony and trying to comb back his hair with his fingers. Tony watches him, body twitching every few seconds, cock still red against his stomach, and Steve has to swallow hard and turn away, body tingling with interest. He’s torturing himself as much as Tony here.

The hallway outside is silent save for the constant whir of machinery. Steve slips out, casting one last look at Tony before he closes the door. He makes his way down the hall, catching his reflection in the side mirror and knowing there will be no mistake what he had just been up to. He makes it to the press conference just shy of a minute before it begins.

Natasha takes one look at him and shakes her head, her lips quirked in amusement. Clint rolls his eyes and Bruce just throws a scandalized look back down the hallway. Thor claps Steve on the shoulder and then they’re being ushered out into the conference hall, phones flashing and cameras recording.

Tony stumbles in fifteen minutes late.

The conference lasts a good hour and throughout most of it, Tony fidgets, shifting on his chair and tapping out impatient rhythms on the tablecloth. When they’re finally released, Steve wants nothing more than to find that damn closet and take Tony all over again, consequences be damned. Instead, Fury corners them just outside the entrance to the conference hall.

“Next time, save the quickies for when we aren’t on international television,” Fury says, eye narrowed. Steve tries unsuccessfully not to flush.

Tony stills beside Steve, brow furrowing. “Are you  _glaring_  at us? I can’t tell, what with the patch.”

Fury huffs out a sigh and walks away. Steve discretely slips a hand over Tony’s ass, fingers trailing up the seam, and Tony chokes on air. He grins, catching his hands behind his back as he follows Fury down the hall. He can hear Tony on his heels and wonders just how long he can string Tony out. 


End file.
